


The Boring One

by Adabotcon



Series: The Favorite [2]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Donald Duck and Scrooge McDuck Reconcile, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Summaries, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23339197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adabotcon/pseuds/Adabotcon
Summary: Donald knew that he was the boring one in the family. Why would anyone pay attention to him when they could have Della?
Relationships: Donald Duck & Scrooge McDuck
Series: The Favorite [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678468
Comments: 30
Kudos: 354





	The Boring One

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd
> 
> I know nothing about boats so I apologize if the whole part with it is completely wrong. I also know no Gaelic. I used a dictionary and google translate.
> 
> The first part of this takes place right before Uncle Scrooge's favorite, and the second part is right after. It'll make more sense if you read that first, but you don't have to.

Donald knew storms. Sailors had to. He assumed that pilots needed to know them too. But Della had never been very good at measuring a storm. She was always willing to fly into one if necessary. Maybe it was because she knew that she'd be able to pull out of it. He'd never been sure. But he'd hoped that after the storm that had made her crash on the  _ moon _ , she'd be a little more hesitant in taking off in one.

As always, he was wrong.

The day had started sunny. So, the adventure the kids had planned with Della and Scrooge was all set to begin around noon. Donald had been double - triple checking the ducklings' gear. He was outside sitting on the deck of his boat when he noticed the clouds rolling in. The sailor's eyes narrowed, and he began subconsciously to categorize what type of clouds, and how likely they were to pour over Duckburg. The answer, he decided, was that it was highly probable, and it'd be a storm that he wouldn't be comfortable sending the kids out into.

Donald had put the backpacks away and gone to find Della and Scrooge. He'd found Della first, with the four ducklings and Launchpad crowded around her in the airplane hanger.

"We're in tip-top shape," Della told the kids. "Right, LP?"

"Seems like it!" the broad pilot answered affably. Donald cleared his throat gaining his twin's attention.

"Hey, Donnie! The kids all packed up?" Della asked. Donald glanced down at the ducklings, hopeful faces looking up at him.  _ And now comes the tough part, _ he thought with a breath of determination. Sometimes, he wished someone else could be the responsible one.

"They won't be going," Donald stated firmly. Instantly there were protestations from his three nephews and Webby. But the loudest by far was from Della.

"What? But why? You know you can come with us if you're worried!" Donald looked at his twin and then pointed to the window of the hanger. Outside, the clouds had covered the sky, and some raindrops were seen on the window.

"They aren't going out in this weather," Donald explained. Della huffed and folded her arms.

"Don't be a fuddy-duddy, Donald," she said.  _ Nobody says that anymore, _ he thought with an internal eye-roll.

"Yeah! It's just a bit of rain," Dewey instantly agreed with his mother. The sailor kept his reaction to that under wraps. Dewey immediately following Della was quickly becoming a huge problem. Not that Donald was jealous! Well much. He just didn't like that his blue-clad nephew seemed to see his worth as how much he impressed Della. Dewey was more than just a mini-Della.

He wished that his nephew could see that.

"They aren't going up in what that's going to become," Donald said, stomping his foot.

"What more water?" Dewey asked sarcastically. "Like that's the most dangerous thing on an adventure. C'mon, don't be boring, Uncle Donald." The sailor's beak clenched and his hands tightened into fists. 

"It's not boring to take safety precautions," he got out in a hiss.

"I mean, I don't disagree," Huey said, interjecting himself in the middle before Della could speak again. "But," he looked apologetically at his uncle. "It's really not that bad. Maybe you're just feeling a bit overprotective?"

"Yeah," agreed Webby. "Cancelling the adventure seems a bit premature. We aren't even sure if it'll get any worse."

"I'm not canceling it. Just asking you to postpone it," Donald said. Louie had gotten out his phone with a frown. Launchpad looked between each family member rubbing his hands together in a nervous gesture.

"Guys, I'm sure we can come to a compromise," he said in an attempt to placate the twins that were squaring off with each other again.

"Well, it does say there will be a storm all day today and then clear up tomorrow," Louie interrupted Launchpad slowly. "Doesn't seem like it's a super bad storm though. The airports haven't even delayed anything."

"See Donnie," Della said triumphantly.

"It's just one day!" Donald snapped. He was hurt by the family's distrust of him. The duck knew he shouldn't be; he  _ was _ the overprotective boring one. He'd proven that before they'd come to live with Scrooge. But he'd thought... well he'd thought they'd learned he at least knew what he was talking about with some things.

"What's one more day?" asked a voice from behind Donald. The sailor spun around to see his Uncle Scrooge pulling the doors to the hanger open. He was carrying an umbrella, the storm had gotten worse during the argument.

Donald took a breath, getting ready to argue his point with yet  _ another _ person.

"They are not going to take off in this kind of storm," he said, pointing to the nephews. "It's supposed to be gone tomorrow." He was sure of that. He'd expected Scrooge to dismiss his statement with a shake of the head. He was surprised when his uncle looked at him with a solemn face.

"Ye, think it's going to get a lot worse than this?" he asked. Donald nodded at the question. Scrooge hummed.

"We'll wait then," he said firmly.

"But Uncle Scrooge!" the ducklings whined.

"Nay, none of that. A day can nae hurt us. And I trust Donald's instinct with this. As should ye Della," Scrooge told all of them sternly. Della gave an exasperated sigh but nodded, apparently admitting his point.

"Yeah, yeah, fine. I guess we'll just have to do something indoors," she said.

"Death darts!" Webby yelled happily, throwing her hands up. "I call Della!" She screamed as she ran out of the hangar's door.

"What? No, that's not fair!" Dewey said, running after her. Della snorted as Huey and Louie went after the pair just as quickly.

"You going to join us, Donnie?" she asked her twin. Donald shook his head.

"There's a lot of work to be done to make sure the houseboat will be okay in the storm," he hinted, wondering if his twin would pick up the hope in his voice.

"Suit yourself," she said, walking out after the kids. That was a 'no' on getting help from her then. Donald turned to Scrooge, who was still watching him but felt his heart fall as Launchpad grabbed his uncle's attention.

"If we aren't going today, Mr. McDee, I think I'd better bolt everything up and than go home," the pilot said. Scrooge nodded.

"Aye, lad that's a good idea-"

"And I'd better make sure Drake is alright, he was planning to go out tonight on you know," Launchpad's eyes landed on Donald. He suddenly dropped into what he considered a whisper, "his night job." Launchpad could not whisper. The sailor's eye began to twitch in annoyance.

"Ah, ye might want to try and keep him inside," Scrooge said in a knowing tone.

"See, I'd do that, but he's really excited about-" Donald rolled his eyes, and that was enough of that. He left the hanger so that his uncle and the pilot could talk about the newest superhero in Duckberg without accidentally revealing his identity to an outsider. Did they think he was stupid? He knew all about  _ that kind _ of night job.

He was more surprised that his uncle was sponsoring the hero.  _ He always did seem to support everyone, but me _ , Donald felt the thought pass into his head, and he stomped it down.

He wasn't jealous. He didn't need Scrooge's support. He was fine doing everything himself... just like always.

The sailor was muttering curses under his breath by the time he'd made it back to the pool area. The wind had picked up, and he was now soaked to the bone. He stared blankly at the rocking boat for a moment, then pulled up his wet sleeves and made a fist.

"I've got this," he told himself. He began to gather ropes and some sturdy ground stakes. He tied the lines onto the boat quickly enough. One for each of the four corners. It was when he got to the hammer and began to bang the metal pegs into the ground that he started to have problems.

He smashed his thumb on the first peg and gritted his teeth. He blew on it and shook it out. But while he was doing that, he dropped the hammer onto his foot.

He howled in pain and curled up on the ground for a few minutes, mud getting all over his uniform.

Donald sat back up and glared down at the accursed hammer. "You did that on purpose," he muttered to it.

"Do ye need some help, lad?" a voice asked behind him, making the duck jump. He spun around, and wide eyes beheld his Uncle Scrooge standing there with a large umbrella, not getting a drop of rain on himself.

"What?" he asked in surprise. Scrooge's eyes narrowed. Was that worry he saw? But no surely it was annoyance.

"Do ye need some help?" Scrooge asked again patiently.

"Uh, yeah," Donald stuttered. His uncle nodded and held the umbrella out to him. The sailor scrambled to stand up from his kneeling position. He fumbled with it a bit as the umbrella was handed to him.

"Just hold it over me as I work," the trillionaire said as he picked up the hammer that Donald had dropped and began to hammer the stakes into the ground. His nephew sat there in awkward silence, unsure of what he was supposed to say or do. Too surprised that anyone had offered to  _ help _ .

That  _ Scrooge _ had offered to help.

"I dinnae understand why ye didn't just drop an anchor," Scrooge said as they moved over to the next stake. "Or why this... boat needs to be anchored when it's in a pool."

"It'd break the pool bottom," Donald explained. "And it's to keep it from running aground in the storm."

"Ye think it's going to get that bad?"

"Yes," Donald said, his hackles rising again in preparation for another fight about it. But his uncle simply nodded and moved on the third peg. The duck deflated, his anger turning into bewilderment.

It wasn't until he was finished with the fourth one and standing up that Scrooge gave any kind of reply. "Why don't ye stay in the mansion tonight then?" This did not help Donald's bewilderment.

"I... sleep better on the boat?" he said with more of a question in his tone than a firm statement.

"Do ye," his uncle said a bit caustically.

Donald felt his fists tighten. "Look," he started angrily.

"What else do ye need to do to keep this contraption safe?" And again, the anger deflated as quickly as it had come. Donald hadn't felt like this around his Uncle since Della disappeared. He'd forgotten how good Scrooge was at deflecting him.

"I need to take down the pictures."

"Let's do that then." Before Donald could deny his help, Scrooge was walking onto the houseboat as if he belonged on it. His nephew trailing him like an errant duckling. It was a bit infuriating. His uncle sat his umbrella by the door and looked around the boat. The sailor suddenly felt self-conscious by the drying dishes and paperwork scattered everywhere.

But Scrooge didn't comment. He didn't even sniff disapprovingly. Instead, he turned to the pictures on the wall and began to help take them down. Donald hesitated a moment and then moved to the far side and began to work to take them down there.

They worked quietly for a time. Donald got lost in the memories of some of the photos and began to slow down to look at them. "Why don't ye move in permanently?"

Donald jumped. "What?"

"The mansion. I wouldn't mind if ye came to live there, ye know for good." Donald felt his stomach fall. What the duck was going on with Scrooge?

"Mrs. Beakley-" Donald began.

"Beakley and ye get along fine now," disagreed Scrooge before his nephew could even start to argue that point. "I'm sure the two of ye can work things out for the better." The sailor frowned.

"I need my own space. The boat gives me that," he argued.

Scrooge snorted. "I have plenty of room. We're not even taking up half the mansion yet. I'm sure ye can find somewhere to hold up that ye can call yer own." Donald felt himself start to get frustrated.

"I  _ like  _ my boat," he said firmly. He tried to ignore the way Scrooge's eyes looked around the boat and stopped on all the spots that were leaking or not repaired yet.

"It looks like it's going to sink any minute. It'd be safer back-"

"Why do you care about this?!" Donald shouted. "You haven't this whole time. So, why now?"

"I have too!" Scrooge snapped back. "Do ye think I want ye out here? Just laying about in a broken-down boat in me pool?"

Donald pointed in triumph at his uncle. "So that's it. You just care about what people will think if you have a less than perfect boat in your pool."

"That is not what I meant!" Scrooge said frustration dripping from his tone. "I only meant I wanted something better for ye." 

"Do you think I can only get that if you help?" Donald asked, hurt.

"Nay," Scrooge quickly said. "Only that I think ye can do better."

"Because I'm not good enough."

"Ye dinnae understand!"

Donald stomped his foot angrily. "Why do you think I need help?" he demanded.

"Because yer sitting in a leaky boat by yer lonesome in the middle of a storm!" Scrooge retorted.

"Well, that's not that different from the last decade!"

"That's even worse!" There was a twinge of worry in Scrooge's tone, and Donald wondered if he was going to get a lecture about how he'd raised the boys when he'd been alone. "Just..." his uncle sighed in frustration. "Just come up to the mansion."

"No!"

"Fine!" Scrooge finally said in exasperation and threw his hands up in the air. "Curse me kilts. Ye are the most stubborn duck!" He placed the last picture down firmly with a thunk that made Donald wince. The Scot stormed out the door of the houseboat.

The sailor gritted his teeth and stood up. He could feel rage simmering under his feathers like an itch. A loud quack exited his beak, and he suddenly slammed his fist against the wall. Why did his uncle suddenly decide to offer that? Sure, Donald had thought about it, especially right after the shadow war. But, he'd never even detected that anyone wanted him to stay in the mansion.

And this was  _ his  _ boat! Sure it might need some more repairs, but he'd built it with his own two hands. Twice! It was comfortable, it was...

He sagged, the rage disappearing. He dragged himself over to his hammock and flopped into it. It was a little lonely. But it was also quiet and peaceful.

A loud roar of thunder as the boat shuddered around him made Donald grab his pillow and press it against his ears. Well, it was peaceful and quiet most of the time. His tail twitched as a drop of water fell on it. He glanced up and frowned at the new leak above him. He got up tiredly and moved out of his room to see if there were any other new leaks.

His eyes landed on the umbrella his uncle had left behind in his fit of anger.  _...Maybe I should have taken Scrooge up on the offer for at least the night _ , he thought a bit regretful.

\-----

He hadn't gone into the mansion. Too stubborn to admit that Scrooge might have been right. Instead, he'd moved to one of the boy's old quarters and set up his hammock there. He'd slept alright. Enough to get up early and drop the now finished backpacks off at the boys' room to be filled with the things that they considered necessary to bring.

He'd decided to go along to make sure everything went alright. The storm was definitely over, so they'd be taking off that day.

It was a pretty typical adventure up until the end. Donald had felt the bridge give way beneath his foot, and watched as his family disappeared from sight as he plunged towards that never-ending chasm. He knew he was going to die.

And then Uncle Scrooge had been there.

Donald had watched as the helmet they'd come for dropped below them. He'd felt the arm catch him around the wrist and tug him up so that his uncle had a firm hold around his chest. He'd heard Scrooge reassure him that he was alright.

And then they'd been pulled up, and they were on solid ground again. Scrooge had pulled Donald into a tight hug, and he could tell his uncle was shaking. That he'd been frightened,  _ for Donald. _

It was shocking, soothing, and... and...

"You didn't lose me. I'm right here, Unkie Scrooge." It had slipt out. Which was mortifying. He hadn't called him that since before the triplets were eggs. It was so awkward, and he regretted it instantly.

It had made Scrooge insanely happy for some strange reason. And clingy. Which Donald most certainly  _ did not like! _ He absolutely could not feel a smile growing on his beak and a blush of pleasure staining his feathers. It-

He glanced down. "The helmet-" he started to say. Scrooge looked at the hand that had been holding the relic and shrugged.

"Ack, that old thing. As soon as I dropped it, the room finally stopped shaking. Not worth the gold it was made from," he said simply.

"You love gold Unk- le Scrooge," Donald said dryly.

"Well, I prefer some things over gold." Donald spluttered and ducked his head. He just knew that Scrooge was grinning smugly at the fact that he'd managed to make his nephew inarticulate.

"You dropped it for me?" the sailor repeated the thought, still disbelieving this turn of events.

"Of course, I did!" It was so simple for Scrooge to say that. As if it were a given. As if Donald hadn't spent his entire life playing second fiddle to his more exciting relatives.

"Lad," Scrooge said softly. Donald looked up, and this time he believed in the worry he saw on his uncle's face. The arm around him tightened as they got back to the ship. "I'd like us to talk when we get back. I think... I think ye might have some preconceived notions about me."

Donald nodded slowly. He watched Scrooge enter the plane and inform Launchpad that they'd be taking off. He made his way to his own seat but found his eyes being drawn back to his uncle until the kids and Della entered the plane.

His eyes instantly went over the ducklings to make sure they were alright, he was a bit surprised at himself for not checking sooner. "You kids, alright?" he asked the four as they passed by.

"We're all good, Uncle Donald!" Dewey replied with a thumbs up. "You're the one who took a fall." The sentence was questioning.

"Just some bruises and scrapes," Donald reassured them. 

"Good thing your  _ Unkie _ was there," the blue triplet added with a grin. Louie snorted beside him, and Huey shook his head. The sailor spluttered indignantly at the statement. Oh, he just knew that he was going to regret letting that slip.

"Now, now, boys," said Scrooge as he came up to the group and sat down comfortably next to Donald. "Don't make fun of yer Uncle. I've always liked the name." The sailor ducked his head just knowing that he had some sort of embarrassing facial expression. It was all the worse as Webby squealed in delight.

"Donald used to use that title all the time before I had you boys," Della told the boys smugly.

"No, way," Huey muttered in disbelief.

"Oh yeah. It was super embarrassing!"

Donald glared at his twin in annoyance. "Shut up, Dumbella!" She just laughed and grinned at him.

"Fine, fine, I'll go tell your really embarrassing stories over here. Where you can't hear," Della teased as she ushered the ducklings over to the other side of the plane. Donald watched them as she helped everyone buckle into their seats. After the Sunchaser took off, it was apparent that she was making good on her threat.

The ducklings kept glancing over at Donald, either holding back laughter or with confused eyes. He rubbed his temples in exasperation. An arm went around his shoulder again, and he glanced at Scrooge. He was smiling fondly.

"You're enjoying this," Donald accused his uncle.

"Aye, I am," Scrooge admitted with a grin. The sailor sighed and leaned back in his seat, trying to relax for the rest of the ride home. 

It must have worked because he woke up a few hours later. His head was lying on Scrooge's shoulder, with the older duck's own head resting on top of Donald's. The sailor felt his breath catch. He didn't dare move for fear of waking the other. And... this was comfortable.

Donald closed his eyes again but didn't sleep. Instead, he let his thoughts wander. To Scrooge, to the boys and Webby. Even to Della, someone he even now instinctively avoided thinking about.

He wondered what Unkie Scrooge wanted to talk about when they got home.

It wasn't long before Launchpad announced that they were coming up on the manor. Della instantly went to the cockpit to bring them in for a smoother landing than the previous one. Scrooge must have woken up by this point, but he hadn't moved either. The two of them sat in the same position until the plane landed.

Donald was the first to squirm his way out from under Scrooge's head. He looked at his uncle, a small perplexed frown on his face. The trillionaire was turned away from him and speaking to Della and Launchpad.

He'd honestly expected his uncle to pull him aside as soon as they were off the plane. But instead, he let Donald get the ducklings ready for bed. Even helped a bit by narrating a story for them about one of their adventures. Della had come in partway through and had helped tell it, though Donald had needed to interrupt her a few times, so she didn't mention the graphic details.

She kicked the two of them and Webby out so she could sing to the boys. Mrs. Beakley was there to take the young duckling back to her room, and the two uncles were left standing uncomfortably next to each other.

"Are we going to your study?" Donald asked after a moment of silence.

Scrooge hesitated a moment and then shook his head, "Nay, let's go to the sitting room."

So they'd ended up sitting on the couch together. Neither of them spoke for a moment.

"I'm sorry," Donald suddenly apologized, not wanting to wait another agonizing minute to see what Scrooge would say. "I lost my temper yesterday and wouldn't hear you out. I know I haven't done very well. Not when compared to Della, Gladstone, even Fethry."

"Lad," Scrooge asked. "What are ye talking about?" Oh, great. He was going to make Donald explain it.

"I mean. I know I'm the boring one, okay?" he said, turning away so he wouldn't have to face his uncle's agreement. "I come on adventures because I want everyone to be safe. That's not a very compelling reason to go. Not like Della, who wants the rush of adrenaline that comes with experiencing something new. Fethry intends to become a scientist, he rides a giant krill for duck's sake! Gladstone ends up on cruises, or winning lotteries. But me? I'm just dumb, boring bad luck Donald Duck. No one would choose me first."

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and then his uncle was pulling him around forcefully. Donald leaned away from the anguish he saw on his uncle's face. "Yer nae!" the Scot shouted, stopping the tirade of self-hatred that had spewed from his nephew's mouth.

"Yer. Nae," he repeated more firmly. He placed a hand on Donald's other shoulder as if he were about to shake him. "Ye, ye actually think of yerself like that? Ye really think  _ I _ think of ye  _ like that _ ?" The sailor gave a short nod.

" 'cause it's true," he said in a small voice. "You've always preferred Della."

"Oh, laddie," Scrooge whispered in dismay. " _ Mo doineann, _ I have failed ye." Donald's heart stuttered, and he finally looked up at his uncle. He felt tears come to his eyes at the nickname he hadn't heard since he was small. He choked on his next words.

"You haven't. I-" Scrooge gently hushed him and shook his head.

"Nay, none of that. I haven't shown how much ye mean to me over the years. But worse, I gave ye this self-doubt without meanin' to." He looked directly into Donald's eyes, and the sailor could see that his uncle was also on the verge of crying. "Listen to me, laddie. Ye are the most stubborn duck I have ever met." Scrooge chuckled a bit at the statement, repeated in a far kinder voice than yesterday. "Ye have a will stronger than iron and a heart worth more than gold. And more than that.

"Ye are the bravest of the brave." Donald had begun to shake his head in the middle of his uncle's statement. Disbelief was evident on his face. He could believe that his uncle didn't hate him or even liked him a bit. But this. No one, except perhaps Panchito and José, thought of Donald like this.

"I'm not."

Scrooge breathed out in exasperation. "Ye are. Ye raised three ducklings alone, lad. Not many could do stomach it. But then ye went beyond that. Ye are the first to place yerself in danger for yer loved ones. I've seen it time and again. Even before the triplets were born. Yer willing to get in fights with either fist or word to protect them. Ye don't hesitate!

"None of us would be alive without ye Donald," Scrooge looked at his nephew, and tears began to fall down his cheeks. Donald felt overwhelmed, still in disbelief, but he wanted... no, he needed to believe this. "I love ye,  _ mo doineann _ ."

Donald broke down and sobbed. He fell into his uncle's lap, wrapping his arms around Scrooge's waist as tightly as he could. "Unkie," he whimpered as arms wrapped around him and pulled him close.

"I'm so sorry, laddie," Scrooge whispered, his voice choked with tears. "I have nae told ye that enough. I pushed ye because I knew ye were incredible. Ye have always been me precious nephew. I couldnae bear to lose ye again. I should have come to help ye as soon as I realized ye were gone with the triplets."

It took a moment for Donald to say what he needed to. His weeping drowned his words every time he tried. "I wouldn't have let you. I was too hurt by you... that you chose Della over what she'd left. I thought I hated you." The arms tightened. "I didn't really. I've never hated you. I- I'm sorry I didn't come back sooner. I missed you too, Unkie."

They sat there for a time, Donald relishing being there with Scrooge. Just being able to sit like this without fighting. Slowly his sobs subsided to harsh breathing and then quiet. The whole time his uncle stroked his head and reminded him that he was loved.

He wasn't sure how long it was before the silence was broken. Scrooge cleared his throat. "I- we should get to bed." Donald sat up and pulled away from the warmth feeling slightly dismayed about having it taken away. "Will, will ye sleep in the mansion tonight?" his uncle asked clumsily.

The sailor stared at the trillionaire. The other wouldn't look him in the eye, and Donald snorted in laughter. Scrooge glanced at him, startled. "Just for tonight," he agreed. "But I'm not moving in permanently. I like my houseboat Unkie."

The Scot perked up and grinned. "I'll get ye to agree to move in eventually." Donald matched Scrooge's grin, though it was still a bit watery.

"You're the one who called me stubborn."

"Aye, but ye got it from me."

They moved away from the sitting room to go up the stairs together. It wasn't perfect. Donald knew. They'd still clash, but just knowing that his uncle cared lifted his spirits.

**Author's Note:**

> I need to write more stories with happy Donald. That's my goal next time. The nickname Scrooge gave Donald is My hurricane/tempest/storm. Or at least it's supposed to be, I'm not sure how accurate that is. 
> 
> I have some more ideas for this series, but let me know what you thought of this one!
> 
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
